set a fire under my skin so that it may light your way back
by tristelamar
Summary: "These past two days she's wanted to scream every time she glances at the date..."


set a fire under my skin so that it may light your way back

He's watched her, waited for her, listened until he's begun to guess at the shape of her, of what makes her. She almost hates him for it because it's entirely possible that, come next Wednesday, he'll begin the slow process of breaking her heart into pieces so small they could be countless dust particles. She has the date marked down on her calendar: a dark blue heart sticker that would have been joined by a little dagger if Se - Yi still hated her mom enough to not care about worrying her. Men in Black begin tour is written on pink ink inside the small square, her attempt to make light of the situation. Lousy, suffocating attempt. These past two days she's wanted to scream every time she glances at the date and sees the stupid pink scribble.

Her throat feels all knotted up and thorny as she stands before him on the stairs, because she's watched and listened, too, has also begun to guess at the shape of Seol – Chan, of what makes him. It's not the first time he gives her this look while they are saying goodbye: more like the fifth, and he's not one to keep from acting, especially when a long separation looms like a powerful thunderstorm not that far in the background. Her love and her trust in him are the only things keeping her here, the only things keeping her from inventing some weak excuse to bolt out, back to her room, to the safety of a familiar space, the comfort of music, and then the thick blackness of sleep.

He looks away for a beat before giving her the look again as he swallows. "You really can't consider me a friend," he says, a whisper dipped in disbelief but more like dripping with defiance now that she's developed an ear for the honest contours Seol – Chan's voice can provide. Se – Yi knows in her blood that he's convincing himself, trying to dispel whatever malevolent inner ghosts are telling him that he's imagined what there is between the two of them.

She ignores the momentary flare of panic as she moves to close a little bit of distance, her hands holding on almost desperately to the straps of her backpack because she needs to do this, needs to reassure him that he hasn't dreamed all of it up. She needs to do this because she wants to so much that she's woken up from dreams of it about eight times already. "I don't… consider you a friend, Seol – Chan," she tells him, looking straight into his eyes, inwardly convinced that right now she is wide open and he's reading the warm words her letters make up, _letting_ herself do that for once.

It's all the pull closer he needs, and she swallows at the sound of his sudden intake of breath two seconds before it's her breathing in sharper, her legs feeling strange, so distinctly weak, so distinctly liquid under her as he steps into her personal space.

He slows down as he starts bending down, and Se – Yi smiles what she knows is her bubbliest grin because she finds that perfect. It gives her the opportunity to move as well, to meet him almost halfway as he approaches.

Her smile unfolds into the kiss, and Seol – Chan's hands falter on her waist before he's holding on firmer, closer. She gets confirmation on her first impression when it comes to kissing: it's strange, disorienting at first, but it's also incredibly nice, so very grounding after the first few seconds, promising, so much so that she has the notion of kissing him until that promise gets fulfilled.

Which it miraculously does the moment she traces a line up his neck softly, a bare graze of a touch with her fingertip that has him moving until he's worrying down on her lower lip, suitably gentle but with a hint of teeth against sensitive skin, and suddenly it's a revelation, and Se – Yi understands an infinity of song verses that used to be a mystery, and she swears her bones could melt with the sudden heat of it, and she wants to find out what else they could do, how they could move to make their contact better, deeper, and she loves the proximity of his torso, the warmth emanating from him, and she loves the scent of him, and she loves his hands on her waist, and she loves his mouth.

Heaven, she _loves_ his mouth.

He needs to be as relentless as he has shown himself to be until this point on their shared history. He needs to hold on to what they are greedily enough that getting on a plane with his group members and all of what that entails won't destroy what they've been building for the past three months.

They stay close as they stop their mouth to mouth, foreheads touching as they share oxygen, one of his slightly guitar-calloused hands coming up to frame her face. If someone were to come down or up the stairs at the moment, they both would probably find the speed limits their bodies are capable of in a tight space in their haste to not let anybody peek into their privacy.

"Se – Yi?" His voice, so caressing and controlled mostly always, is suddenly all over the place.

She takes a moment to regain some measure of composure herself. "Yes, Seol – Chan?" It still comes out uneven.

"I went five days without sleeping when my mother left me, have I ever told you that?"

Feeling relieved, feeling so glad despite the sharp twinge of sadness at his confession, she touches his neck slightly again, loving the number it does on his breathing. "No."

"I did." He kisses her forehead. "That's me. You should keep that in mind."


End file.
